A New Keeper
by hatorispring
Summary: This is about Meg Giry. It starts one week after the end of the movie. Basically it's just Meg and the phantom. I don't know if they'll end up together or not. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Phantom of the Opera, but only if I did…heehee.

A/N: I've decided to rewrite the first chapter. Don't worry, the second chapter will be up soon, but I really didn't like my version of the first chapter, and I only want to put out my best work. So here goes, the new rewrite of the first chapter.

I was running down a dank and dark corridor, feeling a fear constricting my heart. It was a fear like I had never experienced before. I felt something strange on my face and put my hands up to my face. I felt a strange half-mask on my face. I pulled it off and thought I recognized it from somewhere, but felt that the fear making cold sweat run down my back was more important than locating where I had last seen this mask.

Suddenly I was standing in front of a mirror. I felt the mask slip from between my fingers. I was horrified by my own reflection. One half of my face was totally mutilated. The mirror shattered into a million pieces. I felt myself sinking in something. Something sticky. When I came back up for breath, I realized it was blood.

"Meg?" Christine was calling for me. "Meg!" Why did she sound angry? "Meg wake up this instant!"

I jolted into an upright position, my hand flying to the necklace of the golden angel that Christine had given me before she left. Even touching it made me feel a little closer to Christine, even though she was very far away on her honeymoon with the Vicomte. I missed her terribly.

"Meg? Are you falling asleep again? Come, wake up."

I slung my legs out of bed and put on a ballet suit. The two of us went to the warm-up room. I felt that today had the potential to be very long.

The day had indeed been very long. I went to my room and changed into a nightgown. Then I sat down at my desk and tried to write a letter to Christine. She would be back within two weeks, but without her, this opera theater seemed so much emptier. It wasn't that I didn't have any other friends, but I did miss her. All the other girls could only talk about their last drinking binge, and the men they had been with. I loved being around Christine because she was the only one who could keep me decent. I had a wild streak in me that wouldn't go away, even with all of mother's strict rules and regulations. Christine kept me honest and now she was gone. I felt the jealousy rising up in my throat again, as I had so many nights before. This time I didn't try to do the ballet warm-ups and exercises until I fell asleep from pure exhaustion as I always did.

Ballet lifted me up out of anger, jealousy, sadness; anything that was wrong in my life, a few hours of ballet would always come back. But this lonely ache wasn't going away like all the others had. So I decided to go and do something else.

Not knowing what had come over me, I entered Christine's old dressing rooms. They definitely had an unused feel, but the smell of roses still permeated the room. I wasn't paying attention to the roses though. I went to the mirror. I slid it back and entered the corridor from my dream. It didn't end with a mirror though; it ended with steps leading to deep water. Thankfully, the boat was docked there, along with the pole. I dragged myself to the iron mesh wall and went into the phantom's domain.

The place was a wreck. Candelabra lay on the floor, sheet music in pieces and scattered everywhere. Anything that could be thrown or ruined was indeed. It seemed the phantom was truly a madman. I remembered the look in Christine's eyes when Rauol had called him that. A flash of anger, and then a deep sadness that took her a moment to get over. But then her head would lift and her trademark smile was again in place.

I heard footsteps from behind me. The fear from my dream gripped me again. I felt myself turning slowly, tortuously slowly. Then I saw him. The phantom of the opera. He was even more menacing than I had thought. I had seen his mutilated face, and I had felt the charisma he had had with Christine on stage. He was terrifying. Up this close, he was the most horrifying being there ever was.

"Meg Giry. Do what do I owe this great pleasure?" He took a step closer. I could feel my knees trembling and beginning to knock together as they always did when I was scared.

"I'm uh," was all I could manage.

One large hand lifted as though he would strike me.

"Here to see where you live!"

His hand went down. "Why?" The anger on his face made his eyes cold, like ice. He was no madman. He knew what he was doing. And that was even scarier.

"Because…I don't know why." I looked down at the floor. Relief surged through me at not having to see his face. My knees quit knocking together, but they were still trembling.

"Get out."

I looked up at him. He stared down at me with such blatant hatred. I turned fast and ran from the room. He walked over to a lever of some sort and lifted it. The iron mesh wall began to lift as well. I looked back and he already had his back turned to me.

I walked down the corridor and back to Christine's dressing rooms. Through the mirror I traveled back to a time and a dimension I much preferred over the phantom's. For the world of the light truly did seem so much different than what I had just experienced.

It was two days later and Mother had a severe fever. I took the day off from rehearsal though she told me not to. But she was terribly sick. Sweat beaded on her brow and she was completely bedridden. But she complained of being cold even though being within five feet of her you could feel the heat. I wouldn't leave her side for more than five minutes.

This fever went on for a week. I had to return to rehearsal. It was while I was dancing that the freak fever took her life and Mother died. I had never known such a terrible sadness. I had though missing Christine was bad, but this was the worst feeling I had ever had my entire life through. I felt like someone had ripped my heart out and then stomped on it over and over again until the pain was so bad I felt almost nothing. I was a void for the next two days when Mother's funeral took place.

It was when they lowered her coffin into the grave that the numbness melted away and I felt the pain all over again. The tears were so bad and so powerful that I actally crumpled to the ground and one of the _danseurs_ had to carry me back to the opera house. I was folding up her dresses and putting them in drawers as carefully as I could when an envelope fell out of her favorite black dress. I unfolded the parchment within and looked at my mother's handwriting. The letter was addressed to me.

_Meg,_

_I know you've found this soon after my funeral. I need you to do me a favor. Two actually. The first is that you must go on. Grief cannot take over your life, you know that I've taught you that and you must put all that I've taught you to practice now. I also need you…and here my daughter, I cannot take no for an answer to take over for me. I need you to take care of the phantom. He will not like it and I know he would be violent if there was no explanation. I have not been able to take him his meals for over a week now. He must be starved. Show him this letter when you go down there and he will not be violent toward you. You must be his keeper now. I am so sorry to put this burden on you my daughter. But it must be done. I love you,_

_Mother_


	2. Falling But not in Love

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with _Phantom of the Opera_.

A/N: I so can't type tonight! At all! Anyway, sorry it took me even longer to update this one than the other ones. I've been working on all three at the same time and I'm just not good at that. But I have it all sorted out now and guess what? I have no homework tonight? Isn't weird how in junior high they pile you with homework and say they're preparing you for high school, but once you're in high school, you have no homework? Which reminds me that I took a math test today and I really hope I didn't fail. Aaah!

Meg sat down on her bed and looked out the window. The ground was covered in frost and the windows sparkled from it. The moon shone down on everything and bathed the world in silvery light. The Parisian night was wonderful in its icy beauty, but Meg already felt icy inside and could not concentrate on that kind of beauty. So she instead went over to her desk where all her correspondence was kept. There was a new letter from Christine. She wanted to open it and read it, but what about the phantom?

She felt a chill in her stomach when she thought of the phantom. Meg opened the letter from Christine with a letter opener from her mother. She pulled out the creamy white parchment with Christine's light and curly lettering on it. She curled up on the bed and began to read the letter.

_Dearest Meg,_

_I miss you terribly. We leave tomorrow and should be back at the opera house within a week. I cannot wait to see you dearest Meg. It shall be wonderful. Of course, I do love the company of my darling husband, but I cannot wait to experience your superb friendship as well. _

_Remember the time when we broke into Madame Tutiolli's wine cupboard and drank all that raspberry currant? Oh, we were so drunk. I thought Madame Giry was going to whip us, I really did! But she let us off fairly easy, considering how she had always ranted and raved about drinking. How is Madame Giry? I have heard rumors that she is sick, but I pray that this is not so and that the two of you are in fine health. Tell her I said hello, will you?_

_The reason I ask about Madame Tutiolli's wine cupboard is because Raoul has just acquired a new "talent." He learned it from this sickeningly sweet old woman next door. She has taught him how to make blueberry currant. Hers tastes absolutely divine, and neither of us ever pass up the opportunity to sit in her small but comfortable apartments and drink some of her famous blueberry currant. But Raoul's tastes absolutely awful. He has no idea. _

_Every time he makes some, he wants me to taste it before he takes it over the the old lady who taught him. I always say, "Better than the last," which is as truthful as I can be without hurting his tender feelings. I can't imagine what the old lady says to the abomination she has made her famous drink. Oh, but I do love my eager-to-learn husband._

_I will not sing in the opera again. I know people have been asking, but I think it would be an insult to sing in the Opera House as I once did. I know that you will understand Meg, and I hope others will come to understand as well. I will always miss the singing. It was always such a great joy even for the short time that I was allowed the pleasure of being on the stage, singing my little heart out. It was wonderful. But I suppose watching other singers and leading a happy life with my husband will suffice. More than suffice, it will be even better. I am ready to leave the drama of the opera house behind. By the way, has there been any new developments? Any knew opera house drama I should know about?_

_Well, I should probably go. Raoul has returned and we must begin packing at once. We both seem to enjoy putting things off until the last minute. Love,_

_Christine Daae deChagny_

_P.S. Counting the days until I see you again!_

Meg put the letter aside and smiled. She too was counting the days until Christine's return. She missed her terribly. She looked at the part of the letter that asked if there was any new drama at the opera house. What a tactful way of putting it, Meg thought. But no, there had been no sign of the phantom if that had been what she was asking. Speaking of the phantom…but it was too late to bring him food now. If she startled him from sleep…he would be unhappy with the new development of Meg taking over for her mother anyway, she shuddered to think what might happen should a strange young girl awaken him from his slumber. No, the best thing to do would get his food ready tonight and just bring it to him in the morning. And to be sure to bring him the letter from Mother.

She put on her slippers and a robe and walked down one flight of stairs to the third floor. There was a shortcut here on a long set of stairs that led directly to the kitchen. The stairs were rickety old board, and obviously no one else in the opera house knew about them. But Meg and Christine had discovered it one night when Meg had noticed that the wall looked incredibly strange, almost slanted. They pushed on it and discovered the old and unused stairs. They followed the staircase to the kitchen, and ever since then the cooks of the opera house had been noticing many sweetmeats and candies and cookies missing from the opera house kitchen.

She smiled as she pulled the wall/door behind her and started down the rather creaky stairs. Thoughts of Christine and she when they were younger were filling her mind more and more. She knew it was because she missed her and because since Christine was married now she would be seeing less and less of her now. Especially once she started having children. To imagine, the girl who had once found secret passages and stolen cookies with her would soon be having children!

She almost laughed as she pushed past the heavy tapestry that hung in front of the wall/door that lead into the kitchen. Then she quickly looked around, making sure no one else was in here. No one.

She pulled out a large metal tray and opened some of the cupboards, searching for foods that would last in her room for the night. She pulled out two apples, three cookies, milk, water, poured wine into the flask she always kept with her, and various other things. She would find out what Mother had always brought the phantom when she went down to him tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow morning! She would face the phantom tomorrow morning! Fear made butterflies begin dancing, twirling in her stomach. She opened the wall and went past the heavy tapestry, having difficulty getting past it and balancing the tray, but finally getting through. She thought she might have heard someone behind her, but dismissed the thought, halfway up the stairs. She was completely obsessed in her own thoughts and fears.

Then her foot went through one of the steps. She lost her balance and the tray flew from her hands, food landing all over the place and the tray making a loud clanging sound. Thank God it didn't clash all the way down or everyone in the opera house would come running. Instead it stopped just below where she stood. Or thought she stood.

She tried pulling her foot out of the hole and found it more difficult than she thought it would be. She tugged and finally bent over, pushing on the remains of the stairs and straining her leg muscles, toned from so much ballet, to get her foot out. She finally did and lost her balance and flew backward. She choked back a scream, feeling nothing but empty air behind her.


End file.
